walls and smalls

 

14th May

Every now and then I like to catch a train to England and run back over the border. Walls and Smalls were the object of the trip. Although Walls were appearing in the Lothians, along with small coppers and small heaths, the Berwickshire coastal path is the nearest place I know for finding small blues, the UK's smallest butterfly. 

Berwick upon Tweed station

The plan was to run north into Scotland (about 3 miles!) then staying on the majestic coastal path have a search around Lamberton (5miles) for Small Blues, and just beyond at Catcairn. Try to bump into Iain around there or Burnmouth, then on past Blaikie Heugh to Eyemouth for a pint at lunchtime. Then on to St Abbs, (18ish miles) in search of small coppers on sea pinks. There is a brief window for sea pinks, and the small coppers at St Abbs have something of a reputation. I would then get the 6.10pm bus back from there to Berwick, and a train home from there. It sounds a bit full-on transport wise but the last time I ran all the way North to Dunbar to catch a train home it turned into a real ordeal (blog here) and I am not in great shape for a 38 mile v hilly route. Or rather the thought of it might spoil an otherwise delightful prospect of a day. 

Normally I try not to see anything worthwhile in England. When I am in Scotland I usually avoid Patriotism but it is easy to fall for the cheap thrill of it when abroad. Unfortunately I saw this bird which was singing at the top of its voice. Not really singing. More like giving everyone a telling off. (See video later down the page.) I thought it looked like a willow warbler but was making the wrong noise entirely. My pal Keith identified it as a Sedge Warbler. I hate nature when it produces near identical species that can only be separated by careful scrutiny. The Pearl-bordered Fritillaries are an exact case in point and just appearing now. The differences between Pearl- and Small Pearl-bordered Fritillaries are almost impossible to see in the field and both species overlap time wise and sometimes habitat wise too. Very unhelpful. The manic "song" of the sedge warbler at least distinguishes this one. And it wasn't shy about sitting nearby and giving it max shouty. I stopped running and enjoyed its presence - even though it was English.

Next up was this wheatear. Not quite a wheatear the same as the other one I saw recently but maybe a female? This is what I thought until someone called one a Northern wheatear recently online. Oh no, is that going to be like the White Wagtail? Another very similar bird visually but actually a different migrant you'll never remember the subtle differences about. Sometimes birdwatching is a pain in the tits. Turns out a Northern wheatear and wheatear are likely the same thing. And this, this would be a female. Although I could easily be wrong. I spent a long time creeping up, ninja like, and it flew ahead another 40 yards and played the same game; waiting, waiting until I nearly got close enough for a photo. Eventually flying up on to that wall was a huge help as it was getting lost in similar coloured grasses. <deletes 40 photos in grass>

The weather was fantastic. I can't remember the forecast saying this much blue skies and glory. When I'd left home it was without sun cream on because it was overcast as hell and I thought I'd need a duffle coat before sun cream. But I was wrong and baked my balding head all day which wasn't super smart. As a result of the weather every insect in Scotland was out and about and making hay. There was a constant buzz of st marks flies (aka hawthorn flies.) They spent the day trying to get into my mouth or eyes while I ran, or if that failed then trying to drown in my neck sweat. Plenty ladybirds and bugs of all sorts. And loads of butterflies. Mostly whites: GVWs and orange tips. I began to stop only to photograph higher tariff specimens. 

can't even be bothered to eat the 2 St Marks flies on post

traditional selfie in caravan park mirror

ah Scotland!

I took this photo to show how the landscape improves dramatically once one is back into the better quality landmass. I zoomed in to flatter the impressive coastline. Just before I pushed the shutter release something huge fluttered across the viewfinder blocking out most of the landscape. It was also quite scarlet and probably a cinnabar moth. However I couldn't see any sign of it once I lowered the camera. They were on my checklist for species I hoped to see, having not seen one this year. I would look out for others, but sadly it was to remain the only (perhaps) sighting of the day.

Also if you look very closely in that photo of the Scotland border, you can see a runner coming back towards me. He had passed Iain further up the coast near the site for small blues. I had mentioned to Iain my plans and that I'd maybe bump into him at some point, but we hadn't actually arranged to meet. Iain had thought that runner might be myself. He had missed his bus connection from Berwick and ended up walking the 5 miles North along the same route I was taking and had mentally been in competition with me - in the race for Catcairn. Only he neglected to let me know there was a competition. I'm not sure I would have run any faster or taken fewer photos, but I might have. Anyway he won, unless you include the anonymous jogger. I was second (or third) and spent even more time inspecting Lamberton for Small Blues. There were none there. Due to their tiny size it takes a while to be absolutely sure of this.

the Hilton Hotel (?)

See that ruin? I thought I was being very clever by calling it the Hilton Hotel as it stands in Hilton Bay. However Hilton Bay is the next one North. I had been looking at maps to reacquaint myself with the area (and where the actual flip was Catcairn?) and noticed some of the local names. Anyway the Battle of Trafalgar took place WEST of Cape Trafalgar, not on it. So there.

After deciding there almost certainly weren't any small blues at Lamberton I looked over the drops below the North end (Catcairn) and saw Iain. I was really hoping he had found some of the blue magic and tried to glean from his body language and attitude. He seemed to be studying the undergrowth but his camera was not in use. I scrambled down the ledges and drops, and almost dispensed with niceties to ask had he found anything. "Just one" came the downbeat answer. But one is 100% better than none. I was pleased and hurried over to look at it. It was moving about so comprehensively it was doing a good job of looking like 2. One back there and another in front of that bush. I photographed one or both of them and we fell into chatting. 

an early male

Iain arranges the background for a photo
his hand shows just how tiny the butterfly is

After exhausting photos of the first small blue I asked was there likely to be anything further down the slopes. Iain said worth a look on the shelf below. He went up to have a sausage roll by the path while I descended to check out the landscape below. It is all a bit slithery and steep grass but not so bad you risk a vertical calamity unless very careless or unlucky. I knew I had many miles to go and a twisted ankle would not improve them so clambered about the rocky shelves with caution. I could see cattle prints in the mud and heard something moving in the undergrowth nearby - could have been a rabbit or a small cattle beast - but didn't investigate. A Wall fluttered by and I tried to get close enough for photos without chasing it away. Not easy. And the second small blue of the year. Which, after 2 photos, up and disappeared completely. It was smaller than the first and although I waited for it show itself again, it refused to dematerialise. It occurred to me that these 2 small blues (being so far South and early in the season) could be the only 2 adult small blues in the whole of Scotland. Although unlikely.

unobliging blue

I ascended and met Iain who gave the sausage rolls a poor score for cardboard-like pastry. I had made sandwiches the night before although the shops at Eyemouth would have provided similar. We wandered up to Burnmouth where Partanhall Brae makes an excellent suntrap with flowers to attract loads of butterflies. I was reminded of a trip here following almost exactly the same agenda, late May 2019 (blog here) when Iain pointed out Pyrausta Cingulata, the silver-barred sable (tiny moth) on said slope. Here it was again and the photo quality not much better than last time. It is very small and doesn't care to have its photo taken. No sign of any super early NBAs or common blues. Or holly blues. 

Pyrausta Cingulata

goldfinch

At the bottom of the Brae we parted company. Iain headed along the coast and I headed back up the Brae and round past the village hall onto the clifftop trail. There were quite a few wall butterflies and a million St Marks flies. The fields of rape shone in the sunshine.

three walls

another wheatear - male this time

Now this I was pleased about. Not to get a photo of a meadow pipit with a beak full of flies, but to have realised that if I crouched down the grassy background would turn blue sky (or sea). It makes a much better photo and just for the price of bending one's knees. Meadow pipit is of course another one of those species that far too closely resembles another. I am told by those in the know that this is meadow rather than rock or other pipit. 

It was also peeping with a beakful of mush, quite the ventriloquist trick. Video below after the beatboxing sedge warbler and then to finish with a wagtail having a wash in a puddle at St Abbs...

it hopped up onto a post and posed further - very obliging!

reed bunting

Less obliging were these starlings. I love the plumage of starlings but you need to get close to appreciate it. These charming birds were a bit cautious of me trying to slowly approach and then follow them into the undergrowth - can't think why? I got close enough to see what I was missing but never really nailed it alas. Fab birds, even before their magical murmurations.

this was the main purpose in Eyemouth

What with all the warm weather I was quite dehydrated. Normally I would buy a pint of soda water and lime to offset the thirst in order not to gulp the beer but I was a bit confused by the loud football match in the corner of the pub. And all the outside seating was busy, so I was forced to sit among the indoor noise. As a result I gulped the pint and quickly ate half my sandwiches in order to be out of there with minimal pollution to the system. I REALLY enjoyed the beer which hardly touched the sides and in no time was burping my way along the far side of the beach, climbing the steps to the caravan park.

memorial to the storm of 1881 when 189 lives were lost

Going up the steps I saw a wall butterfly. It was the other side of the railing but looked like a real corker - very orangy uppers. Without a thought I was over the railing and legging it along the really very precipitous grass. I got some photos then it flew off without ever opening its wings. So I wasn't sure just how much it was worth it. As I climbed back over the railing I reflected that I was possibly quite a bit more intoxicated than I had noticed, or rather, the wave of intemperance, broke quickly, swamping the beach of sobriety.

yeah just hop over here - that'll be fine!

drunken wall

from this point you can see St Abbs in the far distance

more see wall

lovely trails all the way to the headland

stonechat (f)

Just before Coldingham Bay I got waylaid by a pair of stonechats. One was ahead and one was behind and both continually chatting to the other saying "have you seen the idiot with the camera?" "You mean the one with the bright red face?" "smelling of Staropramen with undertones of cheese sandwich?" "he thinks we can't see him!" "he is a dufus - look at him in shorts, kneeling in those nettles..." and so on.

stonechat (m)

brown silver-line

courting small tortoiseshells

deep joy

no and don't rub it in

Coldingham Bay - surprisingly not completely rammed

green-veined white

swallows nesting or similar

many come to St Abbs to photograph birds
(photo taken in stealth mode with camera held at waist!)

another fresh wall

large crowd gathers to huddle next to, and stare at cliff

linnet or similar

On previous trips I had arrived at St Abbs with a limited time to hurry round and then return hastily to the bus stop. This time I arrived a bit after 3pm and was only catching the 6.10pm bus. Shortly after 4 I had ticked most of the boxes (small coppers on pinks) and was feeling bushed. I really wanted to saunter back to the village, catch the bus and put my feet up. I did not want another 2 hrs of kicking around on tired feet with my baking head exposed to the bright glare of the sun. Since I couldn't think of any alternatives (I don't think there is a public bar in St Abbs?) I soldiered on - and to be fair there were plenty distractions. 

mire loch

I avoided most of the coastal stuff: sea birds and lighthouse etc. and instead spent most of the time trying not to slip on the steep ground at the South-East end of Mire Loch. There were loads of sea pinks and a few small coppers flitting from one to the next. They were fairly busy so it was not easy and the ground is not flat at any point - so you find yourself lying on the slope, trail shoe grips slowly losing traction as you slide in slow motion while trying to focus on a tiny coppery butterfly bouncing from bloom to bloom. The sun is blow-torching the bald spot on your head and it would seem imprudent to drink the very last of the fluids in your reservoir when there is still an hour of this torture to go. 

This kestrel appeared and was hunting just out of camera range. I snuck up towards it but there was no cover to speak of and it kept half an eye on me while dropping into the grass in pursuit of mice and voles, then returned to the overhead cables and support poles. When I got within shouting distance of a decent photo it flew off, but would return when I retreated. I let it be and returned to the small coppers via a pair of stonechats and a wagtail. It was all very pleasant and took my mind off tired feet and baked head.

excellent blue-spotter

another wheatear

just a beautiful spot

reed bunting

To pass the last hour I took a wander round the loch. It was deliciously cool in among the trees with the sun finally off my head. 2 willow warblers had a scrap in front of me; one flew over to a nearby tree-trunk for a photo. There was a green veined white looking for a roost in the grass and a couple of fishermen sitting on top of, rather than inside, their kayaks. I took some more photos of the hundreds of seabirds gathered in huge crowds on the sloped cliffs, but still had 30mins to kill when I got back to the bus-stop so wandered aimlessly around the village looking for a pub which didn't exist.

Another fabulous day in a very special part of the country. Lots of great stuff to appreciate and photograph. I certainly slept well that night. I got home 12.5hrs after leaving. And thoroughly enjoyed (nearly) every minute!

about 20 miles over 9hrs